


an eye to the mind, a window to the soul

by flyingpoptart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Melancholy, POV Third Person, Retrospective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:51:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingpoptart/pseuds/flyingpoptart
Summary: The events of the past several days had not changed the appearance of the Potter house; the windows still laid open, eager to accept the meagre breeze blowing through the countryside, tinted by the smell of wildflowers the field over. But the house, although the same on the outside, couldn’t be more unnervingly different.





	an eye to the mind, a window to the soul

The events of the past several days had not changed the appearance of the Potter house; the windows still laid open, eager to accept the meagre breeze blowing through the countryside, tinted by the smell of wildflowers the  
field over. The door still boasted its doorknocker, a bronze lion standing proudly with a silver serpent, taken from the old Grimmauld Place, coiled beneath it. Lily Luna remembered the effort her father had gone to attempting to  
make Albus feel more welcome in their home after he was chosen as a Slytherin, dashing to the old residence and spending hours toiling with it to make the serpent more welcoming than it was previously. 

That felt like a lifetime ago.

The house, although the same on the outside, couldn’t be more unnervingly different. Gone were the countless sneakers and rainboots from the steps, and the coats from their places by the door. The library sat slightly dusty, a  
betrayal to the memory of Aunt Hermione, Mum would say. Even the sitting room sat quiet, the old knitting needles resting unused, a half-finished jumper lying next to an armchair. It was there that Lily chose to rest, amidst the  
memory of her parents in the room where so many of her happiest childhood memories were made. 

Of her three siblings, only she was willing to return to the old house, to make herself look through her father’s œilstone. 

Of all the magic and mystery that Lily had come to find amidst the secrets and trials of the magical world, the œilstone was the one thing she was hesitant to study. Even Aunt Hermione, one never unwilling to study the darkest  
of tomes for the sake of knowledge, had never fully explained what they were to Lily. All she had said was that a representative from the Department of Mysteries would approach a family after the passing of one of their  
members, presenting them with a small stone containing some of the memories the late family member had felt were the most important to them. Dad was even more evasive, saying that some things are best left unknown. It  
was only during her rebellious phase at Hogwarts, full of black makeup and old muggle music, that Lily had ever come close to fully understanding what was an unknown entity even in the wizarding world. The magic within  
them was some of the most complex Lily had ever seen, infinitely more complex than a pensieve. While a pensieve displayed a single memory, chosen from the mind of a donor, an œilstone presented a wizard’s entire life,  
though only in setting. To view one was… an experience, needless to say. Lily had experienced it only once before, viewing her Mother’s. She and her father had experienced it together, viewing the places her Mother had left  
pieces of herself behind. It was only several years after that Lily could still remember the memory of that solemn night without feeling nearly ill from the sorrow. 

Rolling the emerald stone in her palm, she was hesitant to immerse herself in the stone’s magic. Viewing one’s life in the span of several minutes was difficult enough already, nevermind while shrouded in grief. But amidst the  
dusty books and memories of times long since passed, Lily knew in her heart that her Father would want her to know the places where he had grown into himself, and where he became the person he was. A Hero to the  
wizarding world even today, but her Dad to Lily. Steeling herself with tears in her eyes, she concentrated on the warmth in her palm. 

*  
Flashes of light and color surrounded Lily, a tornado of sights and smells from a lifetime of experience. From within the whirlwind, Lily was deposited in places just long enough to catch glimpses of the life that her father had  
led. 

For whatever reason, a tiny room beneath what appeared to be stairs was the first perception Lily had. Full of cobwebs and dust, it reminded Lily of the time she had gone exploring in the old Grimmauld Place and stumbled  
across an old closet with ratty blankets. Toy soldiers decorated a roughly hewn shelf, amidst a general feeling of uncleanliness. Present just long enough to question why her father felt this room to be important, she was ripped  
away by the whirlwind. 

*

A dormitory greeted her next, full of crimson and bronze hangings featuring a proud lion above open school trunks. Garland and frosted windowpanes indicated the Christmas season, with a tall tree next to a fire blazing  
merrily. Chuckling wetly at the sight of Gryffindor tower, Lily could hear the faint sound of laughter amidst the empty room, the hangings of the four-poster beds swinging slightly despite an absence of a breeze. As she was  
taken away, Lily thought she caught a glimpse of black and ginger hair stepping through a door, the smell of holly and pine still around even in the hurricane of color. 

*

A tall tombstone shrouded in fog stood in sharp contrast to the sight prior. 

The graveyard around her was ominous, shrouded in shadow and gloom. The word Riddle was only slightly visible on the tombstone, weathered away by years of time and neglect. The dilapidated manor house in the distance  
distracted Lily only long to catch only a glimpse of a small boy with a shock of messy black hair and emerald eyes off to the side, cowering in fear. As Lily drifted away, the sight of an innocent face with a look of pure horror felt  
seared into her mind.

*

Misshapen, mismatched, and crowded, Lily thought that the older version of the Burrow carried the same charm it did all those years ago as it does today, albeit with a new generation of Weasleys living in it. She knew her father  
had a special affection for the Burrow, where he made his first friends and family, amongst the noise and magic. It reminded Lily of their home, with three children running around at all times, cousins and pets amongst them.  
Lily could make out the unmistakable clicking of needles, a sound she had grown accustomed to from longer afternoons with her Grandmother as a child. As colors flared once again, the thundering of shoes down the somewhat  
rickety stairs left a smile on Lily’s face. 

*

A messy cubicle in what appeared to be the Auror Department of the Ministry was undoubtedly her Father’s. Despite its otherwise chaotic appearance, Lily could see the traces of who owned this small section of office space:  
pictures of ginger-haired friends and family, wedding photos, and trinkets showed the personality of the person who called this place a home away from home, albeit a home overflowing with folders, maps, and empty coffee  
cups. Wanted Posters of former Death Eaters covered one side, some crossed out to show those who had been captured. A wizard picture of Teddy Lupin, both as a child and as a baby, sat in a place of honor above his  
workplace. The rustling of paper betrayed Lily’s exit from a place that her father had proved his devotion to his adopted world. 

*

Cozy is how Lily would describe the small flat that greeted her next, full of mismatched furniture and houseplants growing in the corners. A long, worn Auror’s traveling cloak and a smaller, more androgynous one in a lighter  
color lay strewn on the couch, amidst cups of tea and old editions of the Quibbler. It was obvious that affection emanated from every corner of the room, from little notes written in the early morning to the bouquets of flowers  
on the mantle of the fireplace. It was here that Lily knew her parents realized who they would spend the rest of their lives with. The colors that whisked her away seemed softer now, as if knowing the emotion this room  
contained amidst the smell of Earl Grey and take-out containers. 

*

The home that Lily grew up in brought her to tears. It was as if it was plucked straight from her memories, full of love and stories, Quidditch and family. Food lay sitting on the Kitchen table as if everyone had gone outside to  
watch another of Uncle George’s antics, or James had accidentally set off another dung bomb. Lily was half expecting for one of her parents to come around the corner, saying hello after a long time apart. The magic of the  
œilstone seemed willing to let her remain here, as she walked into her father’s study, full of old books and photos. Seated behind the desk was her father, hard at work writing on parchment. Not making a sound, Lily basked in  
the sight of her father, before the scene before her faded away. 

*

With a start, Lily found herself in the armchair, the lack of sound unnerving after her time in her Father’s past. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she glanced down at the small stone in her palm. The size of a marble, she  
understood now why people say the weight of it is more than one would expect. 

With a sad smile, Lily Luna placed her Grandmother’s knitting needles in her beaded bag. After a glace around the room and a quick cleaning charm, she left the now clean sitting room behind her, walking to the door to  
commence the journey to her family.

**Author's Note:**

> So I recently moved back to University, and the night before I left I spent the night thinking about how the places we visit impact us. The metaphor that we leave pieces of ourselves behind us was a natural progression of this, as well as the idea that it would be possible in HP to see these places.  
> I'd appreciate any comments you have, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


End file.
